Free The Kissing Diary by Judith Caseley Page B

without anyone telling her.
    Home at last, Rosie ran up the stairs and opened her diary. She kissed the blank page with her lips slightly parted. Underneath, she wrote:
    Saturday
    Rosie in her new Cherry Malt lipstick.
    Then she added:
    Mary tried to make me feel bad about myself today. I won’t buy it. I won’t wear it. I won’t eat it either. Grandpa said I was beautiful. Mom says I’m smart. Dad says I’m both. I don’t need anyone but me to believe it. I am so much better than a bowl of fruit.
    I am also,
    Yours sincerely,
    Rosie Gold-getting-cuter-and-cuter

9
    Rosie Wrestles with Reason
    A mantra only works for so long, until real life hits you over the head. Early Saturday afternoon, a week later, Rosie was still lounging in her pajamas when her mother got back from visiting Grandpa.
    Rosie could tell by her face that it hadn’t gone well. Her mother looked as sad as Rosie had felt when she had knocked over a bucket of minnows at the creek, and couldn’t save them. “How’s Grandpa?” Rosie asked, steeling herself, remembering the tiny fish flipping and dying at the edge of the water.
    â€œHe thought I was still married to Dad, poor thing. But he recognized me, which was a blessing. So the nurse said I could take him out to lunch, that he was having a good day.”
    â€œAnd?”
    Mrs. Goldglitt plopped down next to Rosie on the couch. “He couldn’t remember what he liked to eat, so I ordered him eggplant parmigiana. He used to love that. He ate it, but…” She stopped, at a loss for words.
    â€œWhat? He didn’t like it?”
    â€œHe eats so strangely. Very messy. Sauce is dripping on his shirt. He doesn’t know when he has to wipe his mouth, you know?” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she continued. “Then I go to put him in the car, and he can’t remember how to bend his knees. Can you imagine? This big tall man, and I’m trying to tell him how to bend his knees and put his head down so I can get him into the car.”
    â€œWhat did you do?”
    â€œI managed, somehow. Or he remembered.” She picked up the pillow next to her and peered at it. “Is this a chocolate stain?”
    â€œJimmy eats in here, too, you know! Go on, Mom. What happened?”
    Mrs. Goldglitt shook her head and put the pillow down. “So I drive him back to the nursing home, and I get him out of the car, and he starts shouting, ‘There’s no bed for me at this hotel. I want to go home! Take me home. Take me home!’ I was trying to soothe him, but what could I say? ‘This awful place is where you’ll live until you die’?”
    â€œOh, Mommy.” It was Rosie’s turn to get teary.
    They were silent for a while. Suddenly her mother sprang up from the couch. “Enough of that. It’s Saturday afternoon. You’re going to the movies tonight, aren’t you? I’m seeing Sam. No more crying! Come with me!” She took Rosie’s hand and dragged her in her slippers through the dining room into the tiny bathroom off the kitchen. “Now look in the mirror,” she instructed her.
    Rosie stood cheek to cheek with her mother, two oval faces with a similar bone structure, her own green eyes flecked with bits of gold. Perhaps they were a little too deep-set and small, but she knew they were pretty without being told. Her mother’s eyes were brown and soulful, framed by wrinkles that threatened to deepen.
    â€œNow smile!” she commanded.
    The two of them smiled, staring at their reflections. Rosie’s face came alive, and her mother’s wrinkles appeared to recede.
    Rosie laughed. “Is there a space for us at the loony bin, Mom?” she said.
    Mrs. Goldglitt put her arm around Rosie. “It’s a scientific fact that when you smile, and especially when you laugh, it triggers the release of chemicals called endorphins. It makes you feel better!”
    â€œDo you